


Lineage One Shots

by Young_Professer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Young_Professer/pseuds/Young_Professer
Summary: Random one shots of my favorite star wars lineage
Comments: 19
Kudos: 34
Collections: Mace Windu Fandom Safe Space





	1. Pride

Panting, he glanced over to where T'ra Saa and Cyslin Myr stood at the side of the mat. The Masters were still fully engaged in conversing with one another, and Mace counted to ten, waiting for them to notice he had finished but neither spared him a glance. 

The frustration that had been rising in his chest bubbled over, and Mace marched over and planted himself firmly in front of them. 

"Masters." He said, knowing that he should have said "excuse me" beforehand but not caring. 

Both women stopped talking and turned to look down at him. 

"Yes, Padawan?" Master Myr asked serenley. 

Mace clenched his sweaty palms behind his back. Trying to come up with a reasonable way to express his feelings without being rude-

"You weren't even watching!" The words burst out before he could stop them, sounding disgustingly like an indignant youngling. 

The Mirilan Jedi arched her brow at the padawan in warning but her counterpart just nodded. 

"We were not." She said easily. "Because we knew you would not do it correctly."

"Master Saa, you can't say that in truth when you didn't see any of it." Mace insisted, upset with the unfairness of her statement. "It's ly-"

"I would not go as far to assume that you did it perfectly." The Neti Master interrupted him in the same relaxed tone. " _ That _ would be lying."

Mace's cheeks burned at the rebuke. "Yes, Master. I apologise for my arrogance."

Both of his masters dipped their heads in acceptance. 

"Remember that, Padawan. Pride, especially in yourself, must be earned lest it turn into arrogance."


	2. Sacrifice

There's a drop of easily 500 meters behind him, a furious mob with rifles with solid bullets rapidly approaching in front of him, and his twelve year old Padawan at his side. 

Three options, but he can't take them hand to hand without risk to his padawan and he can't send her down alone. 

So Mace takes the only option left. He grabs his tiny, terrified padawan by her shoulder and pulls her close. He sees a flash of the whites of her eyes as he locks and arm around her chest under her arms, backs to the edge of the plummet, and jumps. 

He feels Depa's gasp from where she's pressed against his chest, hears the enraged shouts of their pursuers, but he blocks them all out, focusing on controlling his fall. Depa can't land from this height by herself, there's nowhere for him to grab to slow or stop those descent. He's going to need to focus all of his energy on slowing them down enough that they can land safely. He can do that, as long as they fall straight-

A rifle fires. Depa shrieks. Mace twists on instinct and feels the heat of the bullet sear his skin as it passes. 

Change of plan. 

"Hold tight." He mutters to his padawan, furiously running estimations in his head as she twists in his grip, grabbing at his shoulders and pressing the front of her body as close to him as she can. 

In the force he feels the shooter take aim, the whine of the rifle charging, the ice cold-intent to kill that speeds towards them and curls his body around Depa, tucking his knees to her back and changing their trajectory enough that the bolt misses them with margin.

He sinks deeper in the force, the wind whistling in his ears fading away until all he can hear are Depa's trembling gasps and the sound of his own heartbeat. He can do this. 

The ground is coming into view dangerously quickly, it's been long enough that they've reached terminal velocity. That doesn't matter right now, because the shooter is taking aim again. 

Mace straightens his body out, fighting the resistance of the wind. He can't hold it for long, his hips are slowly being pushed past the limit of the joint. He doesn't have to hold it though, just until… 

The rifle whines and he tucks in again, throwing his weight into his right shoulder so he's facing skywards. The bullet passes by centimeters. 

Depa is trembling in his arms. Even if he lets her go, force pushes her up to negate some of the momentum, it's not likely she'll survive. They're too low now for the sniper so see them, but he can feel the ground rushing up to meet his back and knows he's running out of time.

Mace closes his eyes and imagines a net. He feels the golden strands of the force in his fingers, weaves them together and solidifies them with his resolve. It doesn't need to catch them completely, just slow them enough. 

He hits the invisible net he's made and feels the strain of their weight and momentum in his bones, but they're still falling. 

With all of his strength he tightens the strand, forces them to pull closer together despite every law of physics pulling them apart. His chest burns with the strain of holding it and he realizes that the ground is still growing closer too quickly.

**Four.**

_ This isn't working. _

**Three.**

_ We're still going too fast.  _

**Two.**

_ Just make sure she survives.  _

**One.**

Mace lets go of his padawan, turns his palms down, and  _ pushes _ with as much power as he has. The effort wrenches a scream from his throat, but it's enough that it sends his body catapulting back up, slamming into Depa and carrying her with him. The change in direction doesn't last long, but it's enough. 

For a blissful second they're weightless and it's silent. Mace feels fully at peace as he grabs his padawan again, wraps both arms around her as they begin to fall. This time as he feels the unforgiving surface approaching, prickling along his back, he doesn't resist. His body will cushion the impact. 

_ She'll survive.  _

**Zero.**


	3. Unexpected

As soon as Grey had raised his blaster, muzzle pointed at her forehead, Depa had known she was going to die on Kaller. Still, she had fought her hardest to survive so she could take care of her Padawan and not leave him alone in the dark Galaxy. But when she felt the blaster being fired at her back she had known that it was her final moments. 

  
So imagine her surprise when an instant later she feels… something. Her entire body burns with cold, there's a sensation like her skin is being peeled off or her muscles and for a moment she can't breathe but then air rushes into her lungs, biting and harsh and the groan must have escaped her throat sounds foreign to her own ears.

  
"Holy hells." A voice mutters, and she's sure it's not hers because it sounds so far away. She opens her eyes to look and-

  
Her eyes don't open. 

  
Depa realizes that she can't move, that her muscles are spasming out of control, her ears are ringing, her head is pounding and all she can think about is one word. _Caleb_. 

  
Where is Caleb? Is he safe? She needs to get up and find him. 


	4. After Death

The whisper of her presence disappears, and for a moment Mace is left floating so deep in the force he doesn't know how to move. Then he feels it again, and it's so close and clear that it's like she's alive and next to him. He reaches out to it, tries to hold on to it but he can't get a grip. There's a barrier between them still, and Mace would push through it but he still is immobilized. There's a surge of light and Depa appears in front of him, seeming physical although he knows it's only in the force. 

"Why are you here, Master?" She says, her voice low and musical and more beautiful than Mace had remembered. "It is not yet your time."

Mace can only choke on his own sorrow. "Depa, I  _ missed _ you." He whispers. "I've missed you so _ much. _ " 

She smiles, small and sympathetic even as she shakes her head. "You have much to do still. You must go back."

_ I don't want to. _ Mace thinks, and he knows it's the same as saying it aloud because the thought echoes in the force between them.

_ You must. _ Depa repeats. "We will see each other again in time, Mace."

"Wait." He says immediately, because it sounds too much like she's saying goodbye. "How is this happening? How can I see you when you've been dead for years?"

"Death, yet the force." She replies, raising her eyebrows at him pointedly. "You are most certainly not dead, but the force is with you, Mace Windu."


	5. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi manage to escape Order 66

She lands, seeing the hundreds of Jedi huddled a short distance away. Although Depa knows Caleb's alive, that all the younglings and young padawan's are out of the temple safely, her heart beats fast and loud in her ears as she opens the cockpit and climbs out, mindful of the burnt gash on her shoulder that throbs with every movement. A knight comes to meet her, asking if she has injuries or needs any help but Depa brushes her off. She has eyes only for the far end of the hangar where there is a crowd of elders, knights, and padawans alike. She strides towards them, looking in the sea of grays and browns for the tan sleep robes of her padawan. 

At first she doesn't see him, and her heart lurches painfully but before she can do a second scan a small figure breaks away and comes racing towards her. A cry of "Master!" reaches her ears and she breaks into a run as well, opening her arms regardless of the pain it brings and grabs her Padawan with all of her strength. 

"Caleb." She breathes, her breath ruffling his hair as he tucks his head into her chest, sobbing "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." He sobs. "Master, I didn't know if you had died. I saw Master Ti and thought you-"

Shaak. Depa had seen a flash of her corpse during the wild dash to the hangar. She breathes out through the grief that rises in her chest and the tears that well up in her eyes. 

"I know." She says, pulling him impossibly closer and forces herself to breathe in, and out.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Plo being helped into the crowd towards the door and a shadow rises on her left. There's a familiar step, a large hand on her uninjured shoulder and then Mace is there, wrapping his arms around both her and Caleb. He's shaking, Depa can feel the tremors travel down his arms and through his torso as she leans her head into his chest. 

"Breathe." She whispers, whether for the benefit of herself, her master, or her Padawan she doesn't know. But after standing for a beat Caleb's crying quiets, Mace stills, and the few tears that managed so spill over her own cheeks run dry. 


	6. Care

Depa's beyond exhausted, Mace can tell, even though her words are clear and articulate as she speaks to the council. Her stance is set, her right hand in a brace that seems to go all the way up her arm by the way she holds it. But there's a tiredness in her voice, pitching it low, as well as in her eyes and the way she tilts her head as she finishes her report. 

There's silence in the council room for a moment, all of the Masters taking in what she has just said because what she accomplished on her mission was incredible for any Jedi. Even more so of a knight of only three years. He glances around the chamber, sees that they're all thinking the same thing that he is. What she's done is worthy of making her a Master before the year is out. Pride swells in his chest, warm and all-encompassing for the woman she has become. Yoda must sense it, because amusement colors the grandmaster's voice when he speaks. 

"Well done, Knight Billaba. A remarkable job you have done."

"Thank you, Master Yoda." She replies and bows, foot shifting forwards slightly as she almost loses her balance in the movement. That's the last straw for Mace. He clasps his hands together calling the attention of the room to himself. 

"Any further questions?"

No one speaks up in the moment he gives, so he continues a bit spontaneously. "Then that is all for today."

It is, actually. Depa had arrived back at the temple and gotten through the halls barely in time to see the council before the session ended. It's dark outside the window, Depa is practically falling asleep on her feet, and Mace is so deeply proud of her that he's willing to end the meeting before she even leaves the chambers to make sure that she gets safely to bed.

To his right, Plo gives a low chuckle, knowing his intent. Mace ignores him, looking instead to Master Yoda for a dismissal. 

Yoda gives him a pleased look, which Mace also ignores, and stands. 

"Force be with us." The grandmaster says.

"Force be with us." The rest of the council echoes, the sound jerking Depa out of the exhausted haze that she'd fallen in. She gathers her robe around her with her good arm, bows again to the council at large, and almost stumbles as she turns to leave. Mace rises, strides across the room and is at her shoulder just as she reaches the door. 

"You did well." He says after they are out of the chamber, keeping his voice quiet. 

"Thank you, Mace." She responds, looking around the waiting area for a moment before she realizes where the lift is. He follows her in, glancing at her face as they start the ride down and seeing how she's resolutely holding her eyes open, her weight swaying from one foot to the other. He raises his hand and places it on her back to steady her, being careful of her right shoulder blade.

"When did you last sleep?" He asks, a bit louder that necessary to make sure that she hears him. She startles again, her attention flickering to him like a flame. 

"A while…" She answers, voice fading in volume as she leans her weight against his hand.

"How many days?"

"Three, I think... Maybe four?"

_ Too long, either way. _ Mace thinks. But he doesn't say anything else aloud, just prods Depa forward once the lift doors open and guides her to her room. She doesn't seem to notice that he uses the passcode to open the door for her, or that he follows her inside and helps her slide her robe off over her full arm brace.

She waves her hand, and the lights turn on and set to dim. Mace can't help but be impressed that she can still use the force with such precision in such a tired state. She is definitely skilled enough to be granted the rank of Master. He knew that she would become a Master eventually, it's been her ambition ever since she was a Padawan and she has the intelligence and talent to back it up. But for it to be so soon… only three or four years after her knighting, is exceptional. Mace is so overwhelmingly proud. 

"Anything else I can help you with?" He asks quietly. Depa startles from where she's slowly sliding her boots off, shakes her head, and focuses her eyes in his general direction. 

"You don't have to be here." She responds, words slurring the slightest bit as she gives her boots half-hearted kick into the corner. 

"I know." He says; doesn't say "I want to" because it's heavily implied in the short silence that follows. "What can I help you with?"

She stops, and it takes her a visible effort to think because her good hand waves vaguely in the air before it lands on her head.

"My hair." She runs a hand over her braids, which are still weaved tightly but stray wisps are falling out all around her head. "It's hard to do- with my arm."

Mace nods, Depa usually takes her traditional braids out and brushes her hair in the evening when at home in the temple. "Is your hair clean?" 

He's not her master anymore so he's not going to insist on her showering if it's not. But ever since the time he had gotten red mud stained all over his hands helping her take out her hair he makes a point to ask. 

"Sonic in the halls." She mutters, fumbling with her utility belt for a moment before yanking it off with a triumphant grunt. She sets it on the center table before freezing again, then turns to look at Mace with a woeful expression. 

"I left my bag at the halls."

Mace shrugs a shoulder, not even trying to sound placating because she's only being so dramatic due to her lack of sleep. "You can get it tomorrow. Do you have a brush here?"

"Here…" Depa repeats, looking around like she can't remember exactly what the word means. "Yes. In the bedroom." 

"Sit." He orders as she turns to get it herself. "I'll get it. Where is it?"

She blinks at him, but lowers herself down onto the nearest chair with a heavy sigh. "Shelf."

_ Brevity is indeed the soul of wit.  _ Mace thinks wryly, but he easily finds the brush and by the time he steps back into the common room Depa is leaning back in the chair, her eyes closed. She's just on the edge of unconsciousness, and Mace does his best not to rouse her, only softly placing a hand on her shoulder so she knows he's behind her before reaching to take the hidden clips out of her hair. He only finds six out of the seven, but the braids fall easily so he can only presume that the other is long gone. He sets to work undoing the plaits, her hair dry but soft on his fingers. Depa's asleep by now, her head tilted as far back as it can go in the chair in a way that can't be comfortable.

He slides his hands to the back of her head and lifts it gently. Her breathing halts, stutters. Mace rearranges her head into a much healthier position for her neck as quickly as he can, and as soon as he settles her back down her breathing evens out again. 

His heart aches for a moment looking at her, because with her hair loose and her face relaxed in sleep she looks so young. When she's awake she looks older than the twenty four years she is, the lines of experience are far too harsh on her face. But at this moment it's far too easy to imagine her as a young Padawan still, his sworn protegé and the light of his life.

He lets the thought finish there, rounds off the edge could draw out and sets it in its place. He doesn't miss her, (anymore,) but he still treasures her presence on the occasions they're together. There hasn't been a circumstance like this… calm and quiet when he can just take care of her, for years. 

He takes the moment: the dim light, the sound of her breathing and the softness of her hair between his fingers, his own deep pride and care, and commits it all to memory. It's not often that he feels this at peace, and the feeling, ( _ her,  _ his brain whispers,) he wants to treasure for as long as he possibly can. 


	7. Escape Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Black_Victor_Cachat

"You must learn to rule them, Padawan, lest they rule you."

"Yes, Master." Caleb's voice is quiet, considering. He's turning the concept in his mind, looking for weaknesses in his own understanding. Usually, Depa would let him think it through on his own, (as her Master had done with her,) especially since they needed to be getting back to where the squadron had set up camp. But she doesn't, just this once. Instead she waits, looking out over the edge of the cliff they stand on at the stars. This is an important lesson, one she needs to make sure Caleb understands without doubt or misconception. 

After another beat of silence, her Padawan realizes that she hasn't moved and tilts his head up to look at her face. 

"Shouldn't we be getting back?" He asks, eyes large and clear even in the dim moonlight. 

"We will." She assures him. "I want to make sure you understand what I have told you. Do you?"

"I think…" Now it is his gaze that travels to the sparkling horizon. "I do."

"Then tell me." She says, keeping her voice soft so it doesn't sound like a demand. "Tell me what it means to rule your emotions."

"It means that when you emotionally react, it's not a reaction at all; it's an acknowledgement. You need to be able to accept that whatever you're feeling, even if you don't know exactly what or why, is just a feeling. It's not good or bad or right or wrong, nor does it change the situation you're in. It's just a feeling, one you feel and let pass. Holding on to feelings makes you seek them out, and that's when they gain control."

Depa's heart swells with pride, astonishment, and a good bit of admiration. "You are wise beyond your years, my young padawan." She says, dropping a hand on top of his head and gently tilting it to look him in the eyes. 

His thoughtful expression turns into a bashful smile at her praise. She smiles gently back at him, heart full of hope for the great Jedi he will grow to be, and reaches for her belt. 

"I've been keeping this, until I knew you were ready." She says, and Caleb's eyes widen when he sees what's in her hand. 

"A holocron." He breathes. His eyes flicker from it to her face, asking for permission. She tilts her chin in affirmation and he takes it from her hand, fingers holding the object almost reverently. 

"Another place you to ask your questions-" Depa's next words die in her throat. The force feels… strange. Caleb doesn't notice her distraction or the sudden shift in the force, probably for the better. Something has happened, no, is happening somewhere. There's something coming, she can feel a tsunami of cold rising, rising, rising. 

_What?_ She closes her eyes and reaches farther into the force. _What is happening?_

There's a shift, like the click of a blaster turning to it's lethal setting. For a moment the entire galaxy freezes, and She feels herself moving, grabbing for her padawan's hand even as she is breathless in horrible anticipation and-

The wave crashes.


	8. Escape Pt.2

Screaming. Mace is screaming, burning and convulsing and falling. Then- 

"Rise, Lord Vader." An old man, one who reeks of evil. "Execute Order Sixty-Six."

Blaster fire falls like rain. It's warm yet cold, humid and frosty. But the same is the confusion and betrayal as their own men raise their blasters. The cold end of the muzzle is the last thing they see. 

Depa dimly hears Caleb's gasp, feels the fear that strikes them both. Her senses are being washed with fear and darkness and death, so much death. It tears throught the force like claws, leaving bleeding wounds behind. Force, there's so much blood…

"Master?" Her padawan's voice is shaking. "What's happening?"

"I-" She pulls herself back into her own mind, pulls up as many shields as she can to try and keep the screams out. "I don't know." 

There's a sound of pounding boots approaching and this time it is here, where they are. "We need to move."

She grabs Caleb's wrist, looking around for somewhere, anywhere they can hide until she knows what's going on. The clones were killing the Jedi. Why? How? Surely Grey and Styles wouldn't-

The current of the force brings a voice to her ears. It's Grey's, but without it's usual warmth and sounding machine-like through the modulator of his helmet. 

"The Jedi are traitors, execute them on site."

So he would. They're getting closer, she can feel their cold intent coming up over the ridge to the cliff. 

The cliff. 

"Jump." She hisses, gathering the force around her. 

"But-"

"Now, Caleb." The light of headlamps split the dark, they're out of time. Depa twists her arm and bodily tosses her Padawan over the cliff edge. In the same motion she spins back around just in time to see the helmets of her men, some of her dearest friends, staring back at her. They raise their blasters to shoot and Depa takes all of her confusion, all of her greif and anger and hurt and throws it all at them. 

The effort of the force push burns her muscles, but all of the clones go flying back with a clash of armor. Depa doesn't stop to think about how many she just injured. Instead she turns and grabs the holocron that Caleb had dropped. (Had it really been just minutes ago that she gave it too him? When they had both been full of peace and hope?) 

She dives off of the cliff. It's too dark to see the ground, and she can only hope that Caleb landed safely. The feeling of the wind rushing past her reminded her of what she felt of Mace. She doesn't know if he's alive, the force is too raw for her to distinguish between the dead. 

She pulls herself into a roll as she lands and stands. Death after death is still battering at her sheilds, pulling sharply in her heart, but she ignores the pain and focuses on the only thing that matters. 

"Caleb?" She whispers, not daring to raise her voice when the me- clones are still so close. "Where are you? Caleb?"

For a terrifying moment all is still, and there's a sharp pain in her chest as someone else dies and for a moment she thinks it might have been her padawan. But then there's a rustle beside her and she turns to see him peeking out from behind a rock.

"Caleb."

"Master." He lunges to her side, favoring his left ankle. "The clones-"

"I know." 

There are shouts from above them. She doesn't know if it's a dread or relief to know she didn't kill them.

"They're my friends, they wouldn't kill us. Master, why are they trying to kill us?"

She shakes her head. She doesn't know. She doesn't know why their men have turned on them and call them traitors, or if any Jedi on duty are left alive. 

"We need to run." She decides, because it seems that they have no other choice.

"But-" 

"Hush." She tucks the holocron back into her belt and grabs her padawan's shoulder. "We are going to run and we are going to stop at nothing, no matter what. Even if we're separated you will run until you find somewhere safe. Understand?"

Caleb's eyes are wide and terrified as he nods. She squeezes his shoulder as hard as she can, knowing it could be their last moment together. 

Depa and her padawan run.


	9. Intervention

"Mace, look at yourself!" Depa said, quietly intense with worry apparent in her eyes. "You barely eat, you barely sleep; instead you work. You work without ceasing, and the difference is becoming visible."

"Nobody's said anything." Mace responded weakly, knowing that everything she was saying was true.

"They most likely think that a Jedi master would know basic self-care." She scolded, but her eyes shone with sympathy. The things that war did to the mind were… unfathomable. It had become the common fate of all Jedi who served to be ridden with endless nightmares, both sleeping and waking, just from the memory of the feelings of the battlefield. 

Now the sights and sense of a battle Mace could more or less handle. It was the losses of his men that kept him up all hours, stricken by guilt and working relentlessly to plan better, to be better. To be good enough that no more of his men died because of an error he made. 

"There is a war on." He said, returning to study the datapad which had been blurry for hours now. "People are dying. As long as I can do something to change it, I will."

The datapad suddenly switched off and Mace blinked at it, moving to flip it back on when he realized that the switch was being held by the force. 

"You are no help to anyone exhausted." Depa said, reaching physically to tug the datapad out of his grip. "It's time to take a break."

"I can't take a break." Mace glared at her, but he was afraid it looked more like desperation than annoyance. "Not until everything is taken care of."

"Not everything relies on you." She slipped the datapad into her robes and looked him in the eye, her presence in the force opening in invitation. "Walk with me?"

Mace stood, his vision disappearing for a few seconds at the change in position. He told himself that a walk would do him some good, it could clear his mind so he would be able to work more efficiently. The idea didn't stop the guilt from rising in his chest, and Mace wrestled with it silently as he walked beside Depa down the halls. He thought that she was taking him to the gardens, but instead she took a sharp left down a familiar corridor. The meditation rooms. He used to make use of one of the rooms daily, but he didn't remember ever stopping by since… since the war started.

The war. He should go back to planning, thousands of lives relied on him right now. 

"Depa-" He started as she stopped at the furthermost door in the hall. 

"No." She replied firmly. "You're taking a break."

She opened the door and stepped into the room before he could get another word in, and he followed her. Not that he wanted to, but because she still had his datapad in her possession and he needed it back. 

The sole light strip in the room was set on its lowest setting, and by the time Mace's eyes had adjusted to the dimness Depa (and his datapad) had seemingly disappeared. The woman appeared a second later from the storage closet, setting two cushions on the floor across from each other before taking off her robe and laying it on the floor near the wall. 

"It's been a while since we have meditated together." She said lightly, settling on one of the cushions and rolling her shoulders. "If you would join me?"

Again, Mace found that he really had no choice. He could argue, but he was far too weary to trade words with Depa. So he sat. 

His former padawan caught his eyes and held them in her gaze, beginning the familiar ritual that Mace knew without thinking. He looked only at her eyes and stretched out in the force, feeling the flow of power directly around them. Through it he relaxed his mind, his breathing automatically steadying with the rhythm. His and Depa's eyes fell shut in sync. Neither of them noticed, their awareness so entwined with the force that sight made no difference.

The meditation he practiced was the one of the first taught to younglings in the temple, opening himself the force and simply existing in it. The power rushed into his mind, washing away all thought until the only thing left was the sight/sound/touch of the force.


	10. Change

Caleb can't breathe, he's choking on his own saliva from laughing so hard. Across the table from him Master Mace is wiping his eyes, looking at the holo and still chuckling. 

"I-" Caleb coughs, sucks in a breath and forces himself not to snicker again. "I can't believe that Master did that." 

"Believe it, padawan." Mace responds dryly, mercifully turning the holo face down so the boy can catch his breath. 

"I'm trying!" Caleb gasps, covering his red face with his hands. "But it just seems so unlike her- Master would _never_." 

He giggles again into his palms for another few seconds, then looks up when his only response is silence. The smile on his grandmaster's face has disappeared into something that's almost mournful. 

"No." He says quietly. "I don't suppose she would anymore." 

His phrasing, the entire sudden change of mood, strikes Caleb as odd. 

"What do you mean?" He asks, keeping it just to a single question because if he asks more than one at once Master Mace won't answer any of them "on principle."

He looks off into the wall for another second before he turns his head back to Caleb with a quiet sigh. 

"Sometimes I forget that you didn't know her before Haruun Kal." He says simply. "She was a different woman then. Still as wise and capable as she is now but… different."

Now Caleb frowns too. He strongly dislikes Haruun Kal (the event, not the planet.) It seems that every time someone in his family is hurting or even just quietly regretful like his grandmaster is now, it's because of Haruun Kal. But still, he's curious too. 

"What was different?" He asks, leaning forwards and pulling the holo across the table to look at it again. It still sparks a bit of humor in him, because the story behind it is ridiculous but looking closer at his master she does look different, and not just because she's younger. Her shoulders are set lighter as she stands, and there's a tilt to her chin and a curve to her lips that he hasn't seen before. 

"She was… lighter." Mace folds his hands into his lap and shakes his head as the hundreds of golden memories of her as a child that come flooding back. "Less burdened. More willing to take risks."

 _Abounding with confidence and brilliant initiative._ Is what he wants to say. He doesn't, because she still is all of these things but…

"Time takes its toll." He finishes, shaking free of his thoughts. "It molds us, grows us into something we never thought we'd be. In the end, all we can do is choose whether to let it make us bitter or make us better." He looks pointedly at Caleb. "In Depa- your master's case, she has become better." 

Caleb nods in understanding, though his brow is still furrowed in thought and he looks far too serious for what is supposed to be a relaxing weekend with his grandmaster. 

"However," Mace continues, tilting his head so the boy knows he's teasing. "I'm still not quite sure about you." 

"Hey!" Gleeful indignation flashes in the force. "I'm as bitter as… as…"

"A nabooian sweetcake?" Mace offers. 

"I was gonna say a meliorun." Caleb shoots back, his eyes wide and earnest and full of possibility. "Just you wait, Grandmaster. I'll become the best better that you've ever seen!" 

"I know you will Caleb. I know you will."


	11. Personal Matters

"Depa's in a coma."

His general goes still, too still. And the way his posture shifts from weary to shaken worries Ponds enough that he loses his concentration trying to place the name.

"How?" Mace asks, the muscles in his arm visibly flexing through his tunic as he tightens the clasp of his hands behind his back.

"Soon after we lost contact with you we received a distress call from her Commander on Haruun Kal Grievous attacked them by surprise on the ground. Only ten percent of the forces sent there survived."

That meant a ninety percent casualty rate. Ponds felt sick just thinking about it. 

"W- How bad are her injuries?" Mace almost trips over his words, startling Ponds. He didn't think that anything could shake Mace so much to make him stutter.

"She was stabbed through three times. If her few surviving men hadn't breathed for her she wouldn't have survived to get off the planet. She's as stable as the healers can get her at the moment, but… it's not looking good."

His general is silent for a long moment, and it seems like the temperature of the bridge drops a few degrees. The men working around them must feel the change in the air as well because almost all eyes are on Mace when he tilts his head down, lets out half a breath, then looks back up. "I will be there when I can."

Mundi nods, "May the force be with you." and ends the transmission.

General Windu moves to place his hands on the console and leans against it for a long moment, and Ponds immediately signals the men to go back to work before carefully pacing around the holotable and approaching the jedi. 

"Should I tell the mechs to prepare a ship?" He asks quietly, because they still have some cleanup to do before the battillion can leave the system but he and the admiral can handle that easily.

General Windu turns his eyes to meet Ponds's without blinking, and they're icy and cold in a way they weren't just a few minutes before. He doesn't say anything right away but Ponds doesn't waver, just waits. 

"No." The General says slowly, dully, as if the word pains him, and he turns his eyes back to the table. "There is work to be done here." 

Now Ponds places the name Depa with a person. High General Billaba of the 62nd, she's a Jedi Master on the High Council. His general is good friends with her, he knows that much from the warm words of parting he's heard her say specifically to him. In fact, in those cases she has called him just "Master." Ponds doesn't know General Billaba's specific age, but through holo she looks young enough that she could have been General Windu's padawan. It makes sense to why General Mundi would deliver the news personally, then.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" He asks out of habit, earning himself a flicker of a side eye because Mace has told him many times before that Ponds never has to ask permission to speak to him. It's flattering, really, that his General trusts him enough to have no restrictions on when he can speak. Even now, when he clearly wants to be left alone.

"The admiral and I can handle things here." He continues, planting his feet a bit firmer to the deck as he speaks. "You should go be with General Billaba."

Mace doesn't move, and Ponds knows that he's overstepped the appropriate boundary of Commander to general interactions but he doesn't care, because his general deserves to do something for himself and if Ponds has to veer a bit out of line to help him along then he will.

"And what, Commander?" the Jedi says, the normally monotone voice covered with a thin layer of ice. "Gives you the right to commentate on my personal life?"

If there's one thing that General Windu is best at, it's being intimidating, but Ponds is a soldier and it takes a bit more than this to unnerve him. 

"Because, sir, I know you have done the same for some of the men." The first time Mace had done that Ponds had been flabbergasted to say the least. A high general taking time out of his schedule to sit by the bacta tanks of common troopers; the idea was still strange to him. But it seemed to bring the general some sort of comfort so he never had said anything about it before now. 

"And." He continues, lowering his voice slightly because he knows some emotion will leak in. "If it was one of my brothers- one of my batchmates, and I had the opportunity to go be with them without consequence, I would be there as fast as a ship could take me."

Most of his batchmates are dead. But Ponds still wishes, deep inside his heart where he does not allow himself to dwell, that he could have been by their sides if they had died in medical. He knows Loose had, and Tap. 

Ponds is snapped back from his thoughts by the way that something in General Windu sort of… gives. Nothing changes outwardly, not even his eyes or posture (which he thinks he has developed a decent skill at reading.) But all the same it's like his very presence folds ever so slightly in the middle. 

"I'll take whatever vessel you don't need." He says. 

Ponds feels a small sense of relief as he nods, even though the statement is slightly ridiculous because there are over a hundred smaller vessels onboard this cruiser and they surely won't use them all just for cleanup.

"It will be ready in twenty minutes." He confirms. 

"Thank you." Finally Windu moves, his hands falling back to his sides as he straightens. "I'll expect to see you back on Corscaunt in less than six cycles."

"Yes, sir."

His general turns and leaves the bridge, and a few men send Ponds curious looks about what just transpired. He glares at them in return, and they hastily make themselves busy. The admiral should be arriving on bridge soon, and he most certainly will not be happy that the general is leaving before the official ending of this conquest. But Ponds doesn't mind dealing with that, as long he got his general the personal time he deserves.


	12. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOT the end of the series just the title of the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reposting because it's one of my favorites and it didn't get the attention it deserved. 
> 
> *TW* This does get a bit graphic when it comes to blood. Not a lot though.

It's not the force lighting that kills him, however harshly the dark power tears into his muscles makes him scream in agony as his body spasms uncontrollably. Neither is it the fall, more like flight, from the Chancellor's office. The force of the lightning hurls him kilometers away, through traffic and past buildings. Eventually he hits a hard surface with his side that decimates all of the ribs on that side but the impact stops his forwards trajectory and sends him falling down to the ground. 

He must have passed out for a moment because when he wakes he's lying on the ground, looking up at a dark haze that is filled with hundreds of lights that dart like flies across his vision. He blinks, trying to clear his vision and realizes that he can neither move nor feel his limbs. He can, however, feel the excrutating pain from every shallow breath he takes. But he's still breathing, he's still alive. The sith had not killed him.

What kills him is the entire universe exploding into shards. Millions of minds stop thinking at once, filling his chest with cold, makes it harder to breathe. Then comes the mass death. Every loss stabs through his skull, each one taking precious light out of the force, sapping his strength. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts _so much_ ; it's worse than the pain in his torso as he begins to cough, saliva mixed with blood spotting his tunic. 

His heart _wrenches_. Depa's dead. 

He can't breathe through whatever's in his throat, he needs to scream, needs to vomit but when he coughs it's just more blood that comes out of his mouth. 

Then he feels the death in the temple begin. He has not known true pain until now, and it breaks him. All he knows now is death, it's all he feels. It washes over him, overwhelms him. And eventually, it takes him


	13. Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Depa hasn't woken, and Mace has feelings.

"Unbalanced, you are." Yoda drops down from above him, showing his presence just before so Mace doesn't startle. "Because of your former padawan."

Mace doesn't move, doesn't want to be having this conversation but Yoda isn't giving him a choice so he keeps his head bowed in half-defiance. "Yes, Master."

The tip of an object pokes against his chin, tops it up. Mace can smell the old wood and feel the memory it has, longer than Mace will ever live. 

"Concern, understandable is. But unbalance not. Talk to me you must."

"Master Yoda," Mace starts, suddenly burning with frustration. "Leave me be. Please."

"No." And with that, the grandmaster sits down in front of him and stares, waiting. 

Mace mentally clenches his fists, anger rising swiftly directed at the Jedi in front of him and- 

It's not right. He does need help. 

Mace breathes out, and Yoda hums, sensing the change in him and his force presence wraps around Mace like a soft blanket. It's comforting, grounding, and all Mace needs to listen to his master in all but lineage with a clear head that counterbalances his heavy heart. 

"Regarding Depa, what feeling are you?"

Mace breathes in, breathes out. "I feel fear" He says without hesitation, because he's been grappling with it without rest since she failed to wake. "I am afraid."

Yoda tilts his head, ears rising with piqued interest. "Afraid of?"

"Of what will happen with her. To her." Mace pulls the feelings close to his chest, lets them rise up and out with his words. "I am afraid that she will never wake, and eventually we will have to let her go. I am afraid that she is suffering in her coma, that euthanization might be the kindest thing for her. But then I am afraid that that is the wrong choice, that she can and will wake and when she does she will be destroyed in heart and mind. The healers don't know why she's still unresponsive. They've tried to reach her; I have and you have, and we have all failed. We don't even know if she's still in there, if her spirit has already died and we are doing her body a disservice by letting it live in futile hope. We just don't know. I don't know, and I want to know. I want her to live yet I want her to be at peace. I do not want her to suffer, but I do not want to lose her even though I may have already. I want… 

"That's just the problem, I want. I want for her when it's not my choice to make. It is attachment, I always will admit that freely. But in this situation everything I do is attachment and I cannot free myself from it because I am attached. I am stuck in the middle by my own devices and it's tearing me apart from the inside. The fear, the not knowing what is now but knowing that I may be the one to make the final choice later on- none of that is new. But the fact they surround Depa, who has always been my light and strength and now she is all but gone indefinitely, is what's unbalancing me." 


End file.
